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by ScarletDevil1503
Summary: [ONESHOT] Paladin Danse and his Knight saw a bright future amid a deadly storm. How could things have gone so wrong?


Danse was tired. A two week hunt for the courser chip cypher had ended with an unpleasant brush with the Railroad. Though the code was extracted in the end, the compromise with the synth-loving freaks was a disappointing finale to the difficult mission.

After returning to the _Prydwen_ , he and his Knight decided to take a much-needed rest. Elder Maxon had approved their request for leave himself, right after their mission debrief. Danse was relieved when the Knight agreed to remain aboard for the granted three days of rest.

After docking his power armor, Danse had slept for about thirteen hours. When he awoke, the Knight was the first thing on his mind. When he got his morning coffee from the foredeck, he considered pinging her Pip-Boy with the frequency she'd given him. When he found her on the flight deck in the pale morning sun, he felt every worry in his body melt away.

She turned when she heard his boots falling on the catwalk. "Paladin Danse," she greeted in her usual pleasant tone.

He smiled at her, noticing her twin mug of black coffee in her hand. "Good morning, Knight," he replied.

Her answering smile was brighter than the sun. "It's beautiful out here." Her gaze returned to the lightening horizon.

The soft light on her skin, the breeze combing through her hair, the curve of thin material around her shoulders—it all drew him in like a warm blanket. Her presence was more comforting than the strongest patrol squad.

Almost forgetting to reply, Danse said, "It is very beautiful."

"This is my favorite place on the _Prydwen_ ," she continued on. "Maybe I'll ask Maxon for a transfer to the flight crew," she quipped, throwing Danse a teasing glance.

Danse felt a shot of nerves at the thought. "I wouldn't let him," Danse half-joked, earning a quiet laugh from his Knight.

"Why do I actually believe that?" she asked, tilting her face up at him.

The sun peaked over the cloud bank on the horizon, setting her eyes alight. She was the picture of youth and happiness, and Danse wanted every drop of that light. Disregarding his wayward thoughts, he said, "Because I've pulled those strings before, and I can do it again."

She rolled her eyes before sipping her coffee. Danse let his eyes wander to the sunrise, a dazzling sight. The vivid silhouette of a Vertibird on patrol crossed over the orange sky. Danse felt a rush of pride with his brothers behind him and his Knight beside him. It was almost … perfect.

"Danse …" She was turning toward him, leaning her hip on the safety rail. A fading purple bruise stained her pale cheek—a mark of her continuous sacrifice for the Brotherhood. "When we find the Institute, what will Maxon do?"

Danse was surprised by the sudden question. "I imagine he will mobilize the Brotherhood. It will be an all-out attack."

Danse watched the cogwheels work behind her eyes. The instinct to lend a comforting hand suddenly flared. "Is it Shaun?" His voice was quiet, hesitant.

She nodded as her shoulders slumped. "He'll be my priority," she warned.

Danse understood immediately, which somehow worried him. "The mission comes first," he said, a knee-jerk response of the soldier inside him. He almost bit his tongue at the harshness of his tone.

The Knight pressed her lips together as though she hadn't expected the rebuke. "I know that," she said a bit cryptically. Her tone did not agree.

Danse knew that if it came down to Shaun or the Brotherhood, she would choose her son. The thought saddened him. "I'm confident," he began in a more chipper tone, "that we can do both."

The ghost of a smile passed over her face. "I truly hope so," she said, turning back toward him. Then as if an after-thought, she added, "I _am_ loyal to the Brotherhood."

Danse nodded emphatically. "Yes, you are," he agreed, but the Knight saw the doubt behind his eyes.

"I would give my life to fight the Institute," she insisted.

Danse took a moment to watch the faint lines on her forehead and the way her eyes seemed to search his for approval. She had reason beyond most others to hate the Institute. "I believe you," Danse assured, resting his hand atop hers.

Her fingers relaxed their clutch on the safety rail, and her jaw unclenched. "Thank you," she said. "I feel like I'm always having to prove myself."

Danse felt his heart go out to her. "Maybe to Maxon," he said lightly, "but not to me. I see you out there, the way you put it all on the line."

She smiled. "Says the one who runs toward super mutants while I flank around the side."

Danse laughed, feeling the air lighten around them. "I'm glad my efforts are duly noted," he teased back.

The Knight was watching the sunrise, now fully orange across the horizon. The light bathed them in gentle warmth. "You know," she said a few long moments later, "it's times like these that give me hope for a normal life."

Danse once again imaged what her life was like before the war. She'd once called it "the American dream." It was difficult to imagine his Knight as a prim and proper housewife. But she was fighting to avenge the life—the people—that had been stolen from her. Danse wondered what she now imaged as "normal."

Suddenly remembering the contact, Danse dropped his hand to his side. "Me too," he finally agreed, pushing the thoughts from his mind.

As if reading them in the air, the Knight faced him. "What kind of life do you want, Danse?"

He knew she already knew, but it merited repeating. "I want a world free of fear—free of the abominations of the war. I want peace."

She wore a quizzical smile. "And after you put a bullet in the very last mutant … What then?"

He mulled over the idea for a moment since he hadn't spared it much thought. "I might return to the Capital Wasteland. To my family."

The word visibly chilled her, and she looked away. "Family is nice," she agreed in a schooled tone. At his unspoken question, she said, "When I find Shaun, I'll take him to the safest place in the Commonwealth."

Danse nodded, unsurprised. "Which is?"

An almost hopeless laugh escaped her as she turned to face the hull of the ship. "For now, the _Prydwen_ is the safest I've seen." She gestured grandly before sipping her coffee.

"Maxon would let you stay, I'm sure of it." Danse was confident. "And Shaun—he could become a Squire."

She smiled as though she liked the idea, and then she caught his eye. "Would you stay for a while?"

Danse nodded, trying to read the thoughts behind her eyes. "As long as I am needed."

She hummed knowingly. "You know, those super mutants are going to be around for a while."

Danse finally grasped what she was implying, and the thought warmed him. "In that case, I guess you're stuck with me, Knight."

She laughed contentedly and the sound was enough to make him feel home.

 **Three months later…**

She noticed the crackle of the radio's speakers distinctly that day. She'd become accustomed to the high quality surround sound of her power armor, she decided. As the chirping of cicadas filled the hot summer air around the Red Rocket garage, she imagined that roughing it in the powerless garage was just what she needed. The _Prydwen_ had been spoiling her.

The wrench clanged to the ground when it slipped on a loose bolt, and the tiny piece of metal went flying across the makeshift carpet. She held the loose T-60 leg steady as she whistled for Dogmeat.

He'd been watching her from his dog house and was already halfway inside. He dropped the bolt into her waiting hand, leaving behind a pool of slobber.

She laughed and pet him behind the ears before returning to her modifications. _Just like old times_ , she thought.

She remembered how independent she was before she joined the Brotherhood. It also brought back memories of lonely nights hiding in the garage—in a house, in a sewer—with Dogmeat when the rain or the raiders were just too bad. Memories like that highlighted her time before the Brotherhood.

That was before months of travel and service with Paladin Danse. The title that was given to her still left a scowl on her face when she thought about it. _Paladin._ She remembered with a pang that it had been several weeks since she'd promised to visit him at the listening post.

What had caused her to so suddenly reconsider her position on synths? Maxon was right—they were a danger to humanity. Uncontrolled technology had destroyed mankind once already, and the Institute was quickly approaching another disaster.

But when she looked at Danse—fought with him, ate with him, laughed with him—she saw a human being. Even now, she was not entirely convinced that he was not human. How could a machine possibly show such dedication and selflessness of its own free will? Synths instinctively wished to surpass man, not serve him.

Danse defied everything she knew about synths, and embodied everything she admired in a man. With his quick wit and passion for service, he often reminded her of her husband. In fact, before discovering his real identity and Shaun's true loyalties, she'd vaguely hoped that they could be some sort of family. But as the truth came out, the seams of her plans were torn away stitch by stich.

When she thought about it, she was numb. She'd felt herself becoming hardened and jaded with every step she took away from the listening post those weeks ago.

This is the real world, she reminded herself. This is the Commonwealth—harsh and unforgiving. There's no room for family, for dreams, for happiness or love. There is only survival. There is only death.


End file.
